Trouble
by evitamockingbird
Summary: Mr. Carson knows for certain that something is not right. Something odd is happening downstairs, and it's just as bad upstairs. The problem is that he has no idea what's causing all the trouble. Can Mrs. Hughes help him? A very cracky crack!fic, featuring Carson, Hughes, and a very AU Mrs. Patmore.


**Warning: Extremely Cracky.**

Mr. Carson knew for certain that something was not right about halfway through breakfast in the servants' hall. When he had first come downstairs, he had been greeted enthusiastically by a pack of smiling kitchen maids, while Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes and called them back to their work, but that had only been odd. As he left his pantry later in the morning on his way to breakfast, he had thought it irritating to find half a dozen staff congregated just outside his door, and very strange when they all followed him down the corridor. Now, however, he knew something was very, very wrong. Mrs. Hughes was behaving normally, chatting with him as she did any other morning, but the other staff, every last one of them, were staring at him. There was a good deal too much giggling and whispering for his taste, and he spoke up to put a stop to it.

"I neither know nor care what has happened that you all seem to find so funny," he boomed. "But I hope you will find a way to control yourselves immediately. The breakfast table is no place for all this foolish giggling."

Most of the housemaids sighed audibly when his speech was complete. "Mr. Carson, you've such a lovely voice," Madge told him.

Miss Baxter, seated just to Mr. Carson's left, leaned her chin on her hand and smiled. "I suspect you also sing delightfully," she conjectured, batting her eyelashes at him.

Mrs. Hughes put down her teacup and looked around the room. _What in heaven's name has got into them?_ she wondered.

"You're looking very dapper today, Mr. Carson," James put in.

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Molesley agreed. "You've tied your tie just perfectly. I'm quite impressed."

Mr. Carson was becoming agitated and his voice rose. "This is not a joke. Now you will all stop this and behave decorously."

Everyone at the table continued to stare at the butler. They all smiled and most of the ladies sighed or giggled.

"I will not disgrace myself by remaining here one moment longer!" Mr. Carson rose from his chair, threw his napkin down into his bowl, and marched out of the room. All eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

"What on earth's the matter with you lot?" Mrs. Hughes demanded.

The staff all shrugged, returning their attention to their food. The sighing, whispering and giggling had ceased, replaced by a little bit of chat between mostly sleepy-eyed men and women. Mrs. Hughes was suspicious. Something odd was going on, but she had no idea what.

#####

"Good morning, Carson," Lord Grantham greeted his butler at breakfast.

"Good morning, milord," Mr. Carson responded.

"I say, Carson, have you done something new with your hair?" the earl asked him.

Mr. Carson's eyebrows nearly disappeared over the top of his head. "No, milord."

"Well, you look very dashing today. Don't you think so, Tom?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Branson agreed with a friendly smile.

Lady Edith entered the room just then. "Absolutely what?" she asked. Before she could receive an answer, however, she caught sight of the butler standing by the sideboard. She turned her steps in his direction and came to stand in front of him. "Good morning, Carson," she said in a low voice.

"Good morning, milady," Mr. Carson answered, flustered. "May I help with something?"

Lady Edith surveyed him from head to foot and back again, placed her hand on his shoulder and then let it run down his arm.

Mr. Carson began to cough. "Please excuse me, milady," he rasped, hurrying out of the room. He was grateful to find Mr. Barrow in the corridor. "Mr. Barrow, I'm not feeling well," he lied. "Could you please finish serving breakfast."

"Anything for you, Mr. Carson," the under butler said with a surprising lack of sarcasm.

Mr. Carson fled downstairs and into his pantry. Whatever was wrong downstairs was also wrong upstairs. He wondered why everyone was behaving so strangely and, even more, he wondered what he was going to do about it. A knock sounded on his door. "Who's there?" he called out warily.

Mrs. Hughes entered the room. "Mr. Carson, I'm just looking over one of my ledgers and I can't quite make sense of this one entry," she said.

Mr. Carson relaxed. "Of course," he answered. "Let me see."

She brought the book to him and pointed to one line. "The trouble is that I can't read my own handwriting on this one item and I've been staring at it for ten minutes. Perhaps you can do better."

He peered down at the book and shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm no help. I can't read it either."

Mrs. Hughes shrugged and closed the book. "It will come to me later, I'm sure."

"What do you make of the staff's behavior at breakfast this morning, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Nothing at all, Mr. Carson," she answered. "I can't understand it."

"The family is behaving strangely as well," he told her. "I left Mr. Barrow to finish breakfast service for me."

"Really! Well, I'll have to think on it."

Mr. Carson looked at her pleadingly. "Please let me know if you find out what's happening. I'm not sure what to do."

Mrs. Hughes was thoughtful for a moment. "Why not patrol the main floor for now?" she suggested. "There's certain to be a lot of empty rooms that need to be checked. You can avoid everyone while I investigate."

He nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I knew you would have a sensible plan." They left his pantry together and separated at the door to her sitting room.

#####

Mr. Carson knew the family and its ways well enough to avoid everyone for quite some time, but his luck ran out eventually. He stepped into the drawing room and discovered Lady Grantham alone. He would have ducked back into the corridor, but she had seen him; there could be no escape. Mr. Carson could only hope that she was not afflicted in the same way as the others were.

"Good morning, Carson," she greeted him, laying aside her magazine. "Making your rounds?"

"Yes, milady," he answered. So far she appeared as she always did, with a pleasant smile on her face.

When she rose from her chair, however, Mr. Carson was alarmed by her predatory expression. She sauntered in his direction, examining him closely, much as Lady Edith had. Where the daughter had caressed his arm, however, the mother reached up and laid a finger on his chin. "Why, Carson," she remarked seductively. "I never noticed you had a dimple in your chin."

Mr. Carson didn't try to make a polite exit this time. He simply ran from the room, down the stairs, and into his pantry, where he locked the door.

Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore were in the corridor to witness this bizarre behavior. Mrs. Patmore hardly seemed to notice. Mrs. Hughes narrowed her eyes at the cook. "Mrs. Patmore."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

"A word, in my sitting room. Now." Mrs. Hughes didn't wait for agreement, simply walked briskly to her sitting room, trusting that Mrs. Patmore would know from her tone that she had better follow.

Once the sitting room door was closed, Mrs. Hughes wasted no time getting to the point. "You've been using your potions again, Mrs. Patmore."

The cook bounced from one foot to the other, looking off to the side. "Well…"

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes. "You _know_ what her ladyship said about that, Mrs. Patmore. If she finds out you'll be sacked!"

Mrs. Patmore put one hand over her eyes. "It was an accident, Mrs. Hughes. I _swear_."

The housekeeper looked skeptical. "An accident? Whatever you did seems to have affected the entire household."

"D'you remember that draught I gave you last night to put in Mr. Carson's sherry?"

"Yes, for his indigestion."

"Well, I poured it from the wrong bottle."

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes again. "That's what I get for taking an indigestion remedy from a _cook_," she remarked sarcastically. "Really, you ought to be more careful. What was it you gave him?"

Mrs. Patmore looked sheepish. "One of my love potions. Makes him exceedingly attractive to _everyone_."

Mrs. Hughes's mouth dropped open.

"I suppose that explains why it seems to have had no effect on _you_," Mrs. Patmore needled, raising an eyebrow.

"And what about _you?_" Mrs. Hughes pressed her lips together in displeasure.

"You know my own creations have no effect on me, Mrs. Hughes."

"You're going to have to tell him."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Patmore was alarmed. "He'd go right to her ladyship if I did, and you know as well as I do that I'll get the sack if she finds out."

"Calm down, Mrs. Patmore. Mr. Carson won't tell her ladyship. He'll be cross with you, and no mistake, but he won't want to see you sacked!"

Mrs. Patmore was still reluctant. "Couldn't I just let it wear off?" she asked. "Wouldn't take more than a few days."

Mrs. Hughes was exasperated. "It's going to have to wear off no matter what! Don't be cruel, Mrs. Patmore. You're a cook-enchantress, not a wicked sorceress. The poor man is at the end of his wits! Tell him. At least then he'll know what's going on."

Mrs. Patmore sighed. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "Then he can hide in his pantry for a while."

"Exactly. Now, go." Mrs. Hughes opened her sitting room door and pointed down the corridor. It was only a few minutes before the cook returned. "You were right," Mrs. Patmore admitted. "He's certainly cross, but he's not going to report me."

"You see. All will be well."

"He says I owe him at least a week of Quiet Time in the porridge for the servants' breakfast. You know how he hates too much chatter in the morning."

"Don't let her ladyship catch you at it, mind!"

Mrs. Patmore pursed her lips. "And just why, pray tell, would her ladyship be downstairs at dawn watching me pour potion into the porridge?" she scoffed.

"Fair enough."

Mrs. Patmore went back to the kitchen, but Mrs. Hughes headed down the corridor to Mr. Carson's pantry. Before she could lose her nerve, she knocked on the door and entered. Mr. Carson was seated at his desk and he looked up at her, smiling slightly. Mrs. Hughes closed the door, crossed the room to stand beside his chair, bent down, and kissed his lips gently. When she straightened back up and looked down at him, he was looking right back, with the oddest expression on his face. She had expected shock, surprise, even indignation, but instead there was just a slight crease between his brows, and a bemused smile on his lips. Mrs. Hughes wanted to kiss him again, but she stayed her course.

"Which candlesticks do you want out for dinner tonight, Mr. Carson?" she asked.

#####

Mr. Carson stayed in his pantry for most of the day and allowed only Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore to enter, the former to discuss household affairs that she was delegating to Mr. Barrow in his place and the latter to bring him sandwiches and tea. Mrs. Hughes had taken care of the candlesticks, but she returned with another question, knocking softly and slipping into the room. This time she found Mr. Carson sorting out some of the silver. Mrs. Hughes walked up to him, slid her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to kiss her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her gently closer, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her head was spinning. _ Mr. Carson was kissing her back. _ There must be more to that potion than just making him excessively attractive. _He was kissing her back. _ She would have to talk to Mrs. Patmore about this formula. _He was kissing her back._ Her recipes were often inexact and resulted in unexpected side effects. _He was kissing her back._

Mrs. Hughes had not intended to stand there kissing him for so long, but she wasn't about to stop now. She could ask him later about linens or glasses or whatever it was she had come in the room to speak to him about. It would wear off in a few days, Mrs. Patmore had said. Mrs. Hughes wondered how many more times she could kiss him before it did. The sensation of his lips on hers was even better than she had imagined. She felt as though she were being swallowed up by this mad kiss, shivering as his curious tongue explored her mouth, pulling him closer to explore in return.

Sadly, it did have to end, though only because they had to breathe. They broke the kiss, but Mr. Carson touched his forehead to hers. Mrs. Hughes opened her eyes gradually to find him doing the same. She let her arms fall slowly to her sides, and he did the same, until they stood close together, but apart from each other.

Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath. "Pudding wine," she murmured. "Glasses for the pudding wine."

"Yes," Mr. Carson agreed. "Don't forget them. I'll have the menus ready for you later."

"There was something else I was going to ask you, but I can't remember it now," she told him. "I'll be back for the menus later, though. I can ask you then."

"Good."

Mrs. Hughes left the room, closing the door behind her, and immediately leaned against the wall just outside the pantry, closing her eyes and trying to catch her breath.

"I see what's going on."

The housekeeper's eyes flew open at the sound of Mrs. Patmore's voice.

"Can't say as I blame you," the cook said, grinning. "You've got the potion as an excuse. What better chance could there be to give it a try?"

Mrs. Hughes didn't bother to deny anything. She still could hardly think, at least not of anything apart from Mr. Carson's arms and mouth. Keeping silent was probably better than denial, anyway, when one faced Mrs. Patmore and that knowing smile of hers. She settled for giving the cook her fiercest glare. It usually got the point across without words.

Mrs. Patmore only laughed, though. "You can't scare me with that Glare of Death, Elsie Hughes. But do be careful, eh? I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

Mrs. Hughes found her voice. "I can take care of myself, thank you," she replied primly. "Now do you need something from me or were you just lurking about the corridor, waiting for me to come out of the pantry so you could roast me?"

Mrs. Patmore huffed. "I was not _roasting_ you and, no, I have better things to do with my time than lurk about for the sole purpose of taunting a snappish housekeeper. Her ladyship asked for a change to the dinner and I wanted to let Mr. Carson know about it before he wrote the menus. Now, if you'll excuse me." The cook knocked and pushed into the pantry, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.

Mrs. Hughes sighed in exasperation and made her way back to her sitting room.

#####

She did not see Mr. Carson again until after the family and staff had eaten dinner and gone to bed. Mrs. Hughes went to his pantry again, where he had been sequestered all day. This time it was she who brought the leftover wine from the family's dinner.

"There's some red left," she said as she breezed into the room. "Claret, I think." Mr. Carson was already getting out two wine glasses as she closed the door. She set down the decanter on his desk and he set down the two glasses.

"Excellent," Mr. Carson said, watching her carefully.

Mrs. Hughes quailed a bit under his gaze, but her memory of that afternoon's kiss was enough to propel her in his direction again. She didn't kiss him right away, instead running her hands up and down his chest before sliding them under his jacket. She rested her head on his chest and took a deep breath, enjoying his intoxicating smell. Then she rose onto her toes to kiss him. He bent his head to meet her halfway and their lips met. He wrapped his arms around her again and Mrs. Hughes enjoyed the kiss for a few moments before she nibbled at his bottom lip. He sighed or gasped, she wasn't sure which, but his mouth was open to her and she took full advantage of it. She scratched his back with her fingernails, moaning softly at the sensations he was awakening in her.

After a while, Mrs. Hughes pulled away from Mr. Carson and pointed to the wine. "Shall we have some now?" she suggested.

"Of course."

Mrs. Hughes took her usual seat and he handed her a glass before pouring his own and sitting down to face her. "I hope your day wasn't too lonely, Mr. Carson, cooped up here in your pantry all day," she commented.  
"I had visitors," he reminded her with a smile. "And I got a great deal of work done without the constant interruption of serving meals and such."

"Good, I'm glad." Mrs. Hughes smiled. "My day was a bit unusual, but the staff carried out your orders without complaint."

After that they were silent for a while, sipping their wine, the ticking of his clock the only sound. Mr. Carson looked up to see what time it was. "A bit later than our sherry last night," he remarked. "At least an hour later. I suppose it makes sense, what with your day being so much busier than usual."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. She examined Mr. Carson briefly as a debate raged in her mind. In the end, boldness won out and she got up and sat on his lap. His arms went around her waist to keep her from falling. Mrs. Hughes liked this position quite a lot. Her disadvantage in height was neutralized by their sitting position and she began planting tiny kisses along his jaw. Mr. Carson's eyes were closed and his skin was flushed, but he made no move to kiss or caress her, nor did he speak or make any sound. Still, he was allowing her outrageous behavior, and for now that was enough for Mrs. Hughes. After a little while she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

"I suppose we ought to be going up," she said reluctantly, though she did not move.

"Yes, we must," Mr. Carson agreed. "Tomorrow will be another busy day."

"I hope we can get back to normal soon," Mrs. Hughes remarked.

"I think we shall."

"Whatever normal is," she replied under her breath, before lightly kissing his cheek and hurrying off to bed.

#####

After breakfast, Mr. Carson followed Mrs. Hughes into her sitting room and closed and locked the door. She turned around and approached him, reaching out for him, but took hold of her shoulders and held her away from him.

"Mrs. Hughes, will you please tell me on earth is going on?" he challenged her.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Hughes was genuinely confused.

Mr. Carson rolled his eyes. "You kiss me every time you see me and just now you… you were stroking my leg under the table!" His face was red with embarrassment at having to speak such of such a thing.

"Oh, that," she replied. "I think you know what's going on. Mrs. Patmore promised me she would tell you."

"She did tell me."

Mrs. Hughes raised her chin defiantly. "I'm sorry if it's repugnant to you, Mr. Carson," she told him. "I'll try to control myself, but we're talking about magic here. There may not be anything I can do."

Mr. Carson suppressed a smile. "Did Mrs. Patmore also tell you that what she gave me was a twenty-four hour formula?"

Mrs. Hughes was shocked. She felt chilled with fear for a moment before going hot with mortification. Her composure dissolved and she put one hand over her eyes. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

"Didn't you notice that the others were behaving normally today?" he asked her.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't," she answered quietly.

"Then I will repeat my question. What on earth is going on?"

Mrs. Hughes pulled from his grasp and backed away, letting her hand fall from her eyes. She looked around the room, everywhere but into Mr. Carson's face. Finally, she sighed and spoke. "Well, if you must know, I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, and when Mrs. Patmore told me about the potion, I had an excuse to try it."

"And did you like it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mrs. Hughes was nettled. "I kept on kissing you, didn't I?" she hissed, finally looking at him. "You seem to be enjoying my embarrassment quite a bit, Mr. Carson. Now that I've explained myself, could you please go? I'm busy. You don't have to worry about my attacking you again." She made a shooing motion toward her door.

He didn't move. "I'm sorry to hear it."

Mrs. Hughes froze. "What?"

"Surely you noticed that I didn't push you away." Mr. Carson stepped a little closer to her.

"I thought that had something to do with the potion," she replied in a small voice.

"If it did, why do you suppose I was fighting off all the others?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Hughes answered honestly.

"Her ladyship was rather persistent yesterday morning, but I escaped the drawing room unscathed." Mr. Carson took another step in her direction.

Mrs. Hughes was both thrilled and uneasy about the conversation now unfolding. "Are you sure Mrs. Patmore hasn't given you some potion, Mr. Carson, to make you want to kiss me?"

"Oh, quite sure," he assured her. "Unless she gave it to me more than ten years ago and it hasn't worn off yet."

Mrs. Hughes's eyes widened. "Oh."

Mr. Carson closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms for a fiery kiss. When he broke it, he touched his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. "I love you, you know."

Her face broke into a radiant smile. "I love you, too. Now kiss me again."

Mr. Carson smiled, too, and obliged her with another kiss. She felt as though she were melting into him, and then all of the skin on her body began to tingle and the room became blindingly bright. Mrs. Hughes opened her eyes and was startled to see white sparks, like tiny fireworks, bursting all around them. Neither knew what was happening, so they held tight to one another. Before long the brightness faded and they found themselves not in her sitting room, but in a grassy field dotted with trees. It was warm, and a soft breeze blew. The sky was blue and cloudless. Mr. Carson had released Mrs. Hughes and both were turning around, scanning their surroundings.

"Oh! These aren't my clothes!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed when she looked down at the dress she was wearing. _And no corset!_ she noticed with a contented sigh.

"You look beautiful, Elsie," Mr. Carson told her.

"You're not so bad yourself," she twinkled. He was in his shirtsleeves and, like her, he was barefoot.

"So… what should we do now?" he asked.

"I suppose we could go for a walk," Mrs. Hughes suggested, holding her hand out to Mr. Carson. "Where are we, do you suppose?"

He took her hand and they started wandering. "Well, I can't be sure, but I think we're still in Yorkshire. Other than that I couldn't say."

"I don't much care, to be honest," she replied. "I do wonder how we got here."

"Seemed pretty magical to me," Mr. Carson asserted. "So I think we can guess who is responsible."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Mrs. Patmore is going to get herself into trouble someday, I'm afraid."

"Very likely," he agreed. "But I'll thank her most sincerely for this bit of enchantment, so long as she brings us back home eventually."

She laughed. "You're right. As lovely as this is, I don't think I'd care to wander a sun-dappled meadow for all eternity."

"Do you want to sit down, Elsie?" Mr. Carson asked. "There appears to be a blanket under that tree, spread out and waiting for us."

"How very convenient." Mrs. Hughes smiled. She really _would_ have to find some way to thank Mrs. Patmore.

They walked over to the blanket and sat down. Before long Mr. Carson was lying on his back. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Mrs. Hughes laid on her side, propping her head up on her hand and watching his face in repose. He wasn't asleep, but he might be soon, as comfortable as he looked.

"I love you, Elsie," he murmured.

"I love you, Charles."

Suddenly they heard the tinkle of a little bell and a basket of food appeared on the blanket. Mrs. Hughes got up to investigate. "Bread and cheese and some fruit," she said. "And champagne! How perfect! Would you like some, love?"

"I would." Mr. Carson sat up and looked around, satisfied with the strange situation he found himself in, but mostly with the company. It wasn't often he had the chance to really be alone with Mrs. Hughes, and he wanted to make the most of it. Champagne was certainly a good start. Mrs. Hughes was already pouring it, and she handed him his glass before raising hers.

"To love," she toasted.

"To love," he agreed, lifting his own glass. They both finished their glasses fairly quickly and laid them aside.

"Come here, love," Mr. Carson said, opening his arms to her. She embraced him and they fell back on the blanket, laughing and kissing. Mrs. Hughes ran her hands through his tousled hair and he ran his hands up and down her back and sides, enjoying her lack of corset. She pulled back a little and opened a few buttons at the top of his shirt. "What are you doing, Elsie?" There was a warning in his tone.

"Just a few buttons, Charles," she assured him. "I want you to be comfortable. You mustn't worry that I'm going to make this tawdry - not in such a beautiful place. Just a little bit risqué."

"I think I can manage risqué," he responded, pushing her gently onto her back and kissing her fiercely. "And you could never be tawdry, love. It's not possible."

"Perhaps there's a better word, then," she allowed. "But I would like to. Someday."

Mr. Carson now propped his head up on his hand and looked down at her smiling face. "There's only one circumstance under which I could allow that, my dear," he told her, his face and tone very serious.

Mrs. Hughes reached up and caressed his cheek, meeting his eyes just as seriously. "Oh?"

"Elsie, love, would you marry me?"

"Of course, darling, just name the day," she answered, smiling again. "But make it soon?"

"As soon as we can," he agreed, then looked over his shoulder. "I almost expect to discover a smiling vicar behind one of those trees, waiting to marry us barefoot under this fine blue sky."

"As nice as that sounds, I think I'd like to get married where our friends can see us," Mrs. Hughes commented. "Back in the ordinary world, but surrounded by those we love."

"I quite agree."

"But here and now, when we're alone in this magical place, you can kiss me as much as you like."

Mr. Carson leaned down and obliged her. They spent the afternoon nibbling on the treats they'd been given, exchanging lazy kisses and caresses, and just lying together on the blanket and talking. The light started to wane and they were able to enjoy watching the sunset together, drinking chilled champagne that never turned warm, though there was no ice to be seen. The stars came out and, though it was not very late, they both dozed off, as happy and relaxed as they had ever been.

#####

They woke in the dark, though they knew at once that they had returned to Downton. They were seated on the ground, leaning together against a large tree. Mrs. Hughes could feel her corset cutting into her flesh and she groaned and stood up. "Wake up, Charles," she whispered. She knew where they were. The tree was near the house, though thankfully hidden by some trees and other vegetation.

"I'm awake, Elsie," he responded sleepily. "Would you give me your hand?"

She reached down and helped him get to his feet. They had been swept away from Downton in their morning clothes, but they were both now dressed for the evening. "I suppose we ought to go inside and see what havoc has occurred in our absence," she sighed. "Should we walk in separately?"

"That would be sensible," he agreed. "I'll go first and you follow a few minutes later."

Once they were both inside, however, the servants' dinner was finished and no one seemed to have noticed that the butler and housekeeper had been missing all day. The staff were drifting off to their rooms or chatting quietly in the servants' hall.

"More magic?" Mrs. Hughes whispered. She and Mr. Carson ambled toward the kitchen in search of the one person who could explain what had happened.

All the kitchen maids had gone to bed and Mrs. Patmore was humming as she took off her apron. When she saw the butler and housekeeper in the doorway, she grinned. "Welcome back!"

Mr. Carson shushed her, but she just laughed. "Don't worry, they're not paying attention to us," Mrs. Patmore told him. "And before you ask, no, no one noticed that you were both gone for an entire day."

"What kind of potion does _that?_" Mr. Carson asked in disbelief. "And who did you give it to?"

Mrs. Patmore planted her hands on her hips. "Mr. Carson, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm a cook-_enchantress?_ I do more than just sit around the kitchen brewing potions! I would think you, of all people, would be aware of that. You pulled off Lady Mary's wedding quite well, considering you only had one footman, and a new one at that! How do you think you managed _that?"_

"Of course, Mrs. Patmore," he replied. "I'm sorry. And I do appreciate it."

The cook was not ready to let him off the hook yet, however. "And where do you think you got that last-minute footman? Miss O'Brien probably thinks it was all her doing, but I know better, and so do you!"

Mrs. Hughes decided she had better intervene. "Well, however you did that, and however you managed today, we are very grateful."

Mrs. Patmore relaxed and smiled at the pair. "So, did you enjoy yourselves?"

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes shared a warm glance before looking back at the cook. "It was absolutely wonderful, Mrs. Patmore," Mr. Carson said.

"Yes," Mrs. Hughes agreed. "It could hardly have been more perfect."

"I suppose I should be off to bed now," Mr. Carson said.

Mrs. Hughes looked up at him. "I think you must be right," she agreed. "Good night, Mr. Carson."

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes," he replied, smiling down at her, but neither of them moved.

Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Oh, give her a kiss, you daft beggar," she told him.

"What?" Mr. Carson was shocked. "There are still staff in the servants' hall."

"No one will see." Mrs. Patmore made a graceful motion of her hand in the direction of the pair of them. "You've got thirty seconds. Now move out of my way so I can go to bed. The kitchen doorway is not a place for chatting."

The butler and housekeeper moved aside to let her pass. "It's twenty seconds now," Mrs. Patmore reminded them as she ascended the stairs.

Mr. Carson was finally galvanized into action. He took Mrs. Hughes in his arms for a rather scorching eighteen-second goodnight kiss. Thanks to Mrs. Patmore's magic, the rest of the staff were none the wiser. They might have suspected something had they seen Mr. Carson's face as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Gone was his usual austere expression, replaced by a whimsical smile. Fortunately for his reputation, no one saw him until the next morning, when he had managed, in spite of a whole night of sweet dreams of his beloved, to pull his lips into something resembling a stern frown.

#####

Mrs. Patmore set a tea tray down on Mrs. Hughes's table a few hours after breakfast the next morning.

The housekeeper looked up. "You couldn't knock?"

"Didn't feel like it," Mrs. Patmore told her. "Besides, the door was open."

Mrs. Hughes saw the tea tray and knew what to expect. "You've come for details, haven't you?"

"I certainly have. Don't I deserve them?"

"I could report you, you know," Mrs. Hughes threatened halfheartedly.

"But you won't."

"No. I won't."

"So?"

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, Mrs. Patmore, but I really must ask you to explain exactly what happened yesterday."

"So I'm to give away all my secrets?"

"Not all of them. But what happened in the sitting room? Were you waiting outside with your ear on the door, waiting for the right moment to cast your spell?"

"Oh, I can explain that. There _was_ a potion involved. I gave it to both of you, so that if you ever admitted your feelings you'd have a lovely little holiday from the house to talk it all over."

Mrs. Hughes was confused. "A potion, then? To both of us? When?"

"During the War."

"During the War!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed.

"Yes. When Mr. Carson had that attack I brewed something new."

"I still don't quite under-"

"Just be quiet, Mrs. Hughes, and I'll tell you everything. When Mr. Carson had that attack in the dining room during the War, we were all worried about him, especially the maids who were up top and saw it happen. It was a relief when Dr. Clarkson said it wasn't a heart attack. But when I saw _you_ that night it just about broke my heart. You weren't acting any differently than normal, giving orders just like always, but you were white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. I thought at first that you were ill, but when you wouldn't let anyone else take a tray to him the whole time he was laid up it was easy enough to see how much he meant to you - how afraid you'd been."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "I _was_ afraid. I'd never thought before of what I would do if I lost him, but in a split second my mind showed me a thousand images of Downton without him. It was terrifying."

"I couldn't tell right away what _his_ thoughts were, but I got to work right away. A little bit in your tea and a little bit in that bottle of his medicine you were clutching so tightly would make your first 'I love you' extra special when it came, _if_ it ever did. But there would have been no ill effects if it hadn't." Mrs. Patmore looked thoughtful before she murmured, "well, none from the potion, anyway."

"But it_ did_ come, Mrs. Patmore. He told me." Mrs. Hughes could not stay solemn for long, though she tried, without success, to suppress her smile. "And it was glorious."

"The potion turned on the bright lights and fireworks," Mrs. Patmore explained. "The destination was up to my ingenuity and incantations. I've been working on that one for years, making little changes here and there."

"Mr. Carson was a little surprised that you didn't give us a vicar," Mrs. Hughes told her, smiling at the memory.

"Magic vicars don't make legal marriages." Mrs. Patmore turned quickly to the housekeeper and smiled. "So he did ask you, then? You're going to-"

"Of course he did!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed. "Imagine Mr. Carson telling a woman he loves her, but not proposing marriage. Inconceivable." She laughed.

"Well, perhaps you're right," the cook agreed. "You would know better than I."

Mrs. Hughes didn't answer, only sat sipping her tea and smiling a secret smile. Mrs. Patmore was satisfied with her work and glad to see her friends so happy at last, even though it had started with her mistake. Poor Mr. Carson! She would have been just as pleased with this outcome if he had not had to suffer through that humiliating morning, but all had turned out well, so Mrs. Patmore did not regret even that little kerfuffle. As long as Lady Grantham never found out why she had found herself so drawn to the dimple in her butler's chin that one strange morning.

#####

Mrs. Hughes felt like skipping as she walked home from the village on Mr. Carson's arm.

"Magic vicars don't make legal marriages?" he asked.

"That's what she said," Mrs. Hughes answered. "I suppose it makes sense, really. Anyway, the real vicar will only make us wait three weeks, which isn't too dreadful."

"Elsie, what do you want to do once we're married? I'm not sure if his lordship will let us stay on once we're married."

"Mrs. Patmore says we're to leave that his lordship to her."

"Oh?" Mr. Carson raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"If we want to stay, she'll make sure he allows it, and if we want to retire, she'll make sure he gives us the finest cottage on the estate."

Mr. Carson smirked. "Will I have to pour a potion in his port?" he asked.

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "Charles, you'd better not say anything like that in front of Mrs. Patmore or she might take back her promise to help us."

"I will behave myself, then," he said. "Because you asked me to."

"I'm honestly not quite sure what I'd like to do once we're married."

"I suppose we could try staying on and see how we like it before we decide absolutely," Mr. Carson mused.

"I think that's a very sensible plan," Mrs. Hughes agreed. "I'll tell Mrs. Patmore when we get back and she'll know what to do."

Mr. Carson nodded. "Do you see that, Elsie?" he asked, pointing off to the left.

She was puzzled. "I see the woods, Charles."

"Yes, the last patch of woods before home."

"What's so special about it, then?"

Mr. Carson tugged Mrs. Hughes into the shade of the trees and kissed her.

"Oh, I see what's special," she admitted.

He pulled Mrs. Hughes deeper into the wooded area, leaned back against one of the largest trees, and gathered her close to him. "It's very special, isn't it?" he asked solemnly, cupping her cheek with his palm.

She nodded back, not breaking his gaze. "Not everyone finds something this special," she agreed, before standing on her toes and kissing him.

"Magical, even," he said playfully.

"Oh, yes," she agreed, smiling merrily against his lips. "Absolutely magical."

_The end._

**Please don't ask me where that came from. I'd love a review if you can spare a few minutes.**


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